Thoughts on growing old...

.... hopefully disgracefully.
I was notified this morning that my first pension payments had been made. After my initial shock and horror (still convinced I'm 36 until I look in the mirror) I reflected upon what being officially ancient/senior/mad old biddy actually meant: a bit more dosh, free ferries (surprisingly useful round here), reduced cinema tickets, reduced entry to the swimming pool, and somehow a lot more freedom. You can get up when you like, take a leisurely breakfast, persue weird and wonderful activities that only you may be interested in, lunch with your friends, drop everything and go for a long walk, garden in your nighty and get welded to your wellies! There are a few downsides of course - everything creaks and aches a bit more and there are a few alarming possiblities ahead but it's not all bad. Himself informed me over breakfast of the recipe for a long and prosperous old age (something he was reading from the internet so it must be true):
sex twice a week
lots of wine
a diet of tofu, sea lettuce and turmeric
live on a Greek island
Not sure about the tofu.

It's MonoMonday and the theme is water, hosted by notowennewitt I headed off to my favourite ringfort (see what I mean) - a little circular enclosure on top of hill with a deep ditch around it always full of water, fully intentional I'm sure. This was once a small farmstead surrounded by a protective bank and ditch. It's the moat gives this one a unique and special air. The willows that have grown up in it make all sorts of strange and mysterious shapes and it's perfectly easy to see how liminal spaces were so important in Celtic belief. Water was one such liminal space: a boundary between the real word and something else, mirroring what was above but very different underneath. Water was thought to allow entrance to the Otherworld, the realm of the Sidhe or fairies who lived a parallel life with humans. You can see the allure.